–You’re Andrew?†I ask, holding up the flyer.
–Good to see you’re doing better,†Andy says conversationally. –That was a nasty collision earlier.†I'm still having some trouble believing that Andrew, the person we've been wondering about for days, is Andy, our Quidditch commentator. He throws a quick look up and down the corridor, making sure that we’re not being overheard. –So what can I do for you? I’ve got silver amulets just in from Tibet, or you could try a Thought-Stimulating Salve...â€
Pointing at the flyer, Charlie says, –We’re really more interested in this here.â€
–Yeah, Andy, what did you do?†I ask.
Andy glances at it, then shakes his head. –I’m not selling that stuff anymore. Didn’t pay off.â€
–Oh, so it’s nothing to do with three people landing in the hospital wing?†I cross my arms over my chest.
–Hey, I never sold any of that stuff to anyone who’s in the hospital wing. I only sold it to one person, that’s all.†His face grows red, and I notice that he’s not looking directly at either of us anymore.
–They could have resold to other people,†I theorise. –Who bought it from you?â€
–Can’t tell you that,†he says, and takes a step back into his wall. –Sorry, but I do have work ethics. I’m not going to just give up my customers to the first righteous Hufflepuff that starts snooping around.â€
–Make you a deal, Andy.†I walk towards him and lean against the wall. –We’re not going to tell any of the teachers or the headmaster about your operation, and in return, you help us out.â€
He considers this for a moment, and I can tell that it really annoys him when he replies, –What do you want, then?â€
–Well, first of all a sample of the thing you sold, if you’ve got any left.â€
–I might,†he says. –I’ll have to check.â€
–How do we know you’re not going to make a run for it?†Charlie asks.
–You know who I am now, don’t you,†Andy replies, a pained expression on his face. –Where am I supposed to run to?â€
The tapestry swings back into place behind him, and we’re left waiting again. He does take his time fetching the sample. Just as I’m beginning to get suspicious, and also a bit bored, I can hear steps behind the wall again and nudge Charlie.
–There,†Andy says, stepping out from the wall. He holds a single small phial with a dark blue liquid between his fingers, which I snatch from him.
Turning it over in my hands, I ask, –Okay, so what exactly is this?â€
"A potion," he replies.
"Oh don't try to be clever, Turpin," I hiss. "We all know you too well for that."
–No need to be such a harpy about it. It's a modified sleep potion.†He shrugs. –Technically, it should give you active dreams. You know, lucid dreaming. Let’s you choose what you want to experience in your sleep, so if that’s your thing, you could use the extra time to study.â€
–Does it work?†Charlie asks.
–I didn’t try it myself,†he says incredulously. –D’you think I’m mad? I’m not taking this stuff.â€
–But you’re selling it to others,†I say, frowning. "Spare people the talk about your ethics in the future, will you?"
–Well first of all, this didn’t sell well at all, I told you, so I’m not selling it anymore. And I’m not a prefect or anything, it’s not my task to watch out for everyone. If people buy stuff to boost their exam results, they have to know what they’re doing themselves.†He crosses his arms in front of his chest and stares back at us defiantly.
All I can do is roll my eyes. It’ll be useless arguing this point with him. –All right then. How are you supposed to use this?â€
–Take it before you go to bed.†There’s a pause while I raise my eyebrows at him. –That’s it, I swear!â€
–Okay,†I say, and push off the wall. –If we need anything else, we’ll know where to find you. Let’s go, Charlie.â€
Charlie watches Andy warily for a moment, then turns to leave. At that moment, Andy opens his mouth to speak. –Uhm...â€
–What is it, Turpin?†I ask.
–It’s actually fifteen Sickles per phial,†he replies, a slight tremble in his voice.
–Are you completely serious?†I put my hands on my hips. –Honestly, Turpin, we could take you right now and drag you to Dumbledore, and then he could find out if this potion is causing the illnesses while you stand there and wet your knickers in fear. Would you prefer that? Because Merlin knows I’d be willing to pay fifteen Sickles for that image.â€
Grumbling, he retreats behind the tapestry. We wait until we hear the stones move back into place behind him, then turn towards the big staircase.
–You were asking what my mum’s like the other day,†Charlie says with a grin. –Maybe you wouldn’t be too scared after all.â€
–What’s that supposed to--†I break off as we start descending the stairs. The potion Madam Pomfrey gave me must be wearing off, and even though the pain is nowhere near as bad as before, I still feel a small jolt at every step.
–Oh no, you’re not all right, are you,†Charlie says and quickly grabs my elbow.
–It’s just the bruising,†I try to explain. –Madam Pomfrey gave me some salve...â€
–You should get back to your dormitory and use it,†Charlie suggests. –And then go to your common room for the massive party they’re doubtless throwing you.â€
–Oh right.†I grin. –We beat you.â€
–Maybe if I hadn’t been distracted--†Charlie begins with a grin, but then breaks off and helps me hobble down the stairs. –Tonks, promise me you won’t do anything stupid with that potion,†he says finally.
–Why would you think I was going to do anything stupid?†I ask, half joking.
–For one, you’re still holding it,†he says. –And then you did ask for instructions, and I doubt you were doing that for Madam Pomfrey’s benefit.â€
–Well, I--†I try to defend myself, but Charlie interrupts me.
–You were just hoping that it might help identify the potion.†He’s picked the words out of my mouth, and I'm fairly sure he knows how honest they were going to be, too. –Right?†he asks, giving my shoulder a playful squeeze. "Let's take it to someone who can identify it tomorrow morning, all right?"
"I'm not going to Snape on a Sunday," I grumble. "I won't have him poke his greasy nose into my one free day."
"We should probably go to someone else first anyway," Charlie says. "It's not like Snape would believe us or be helpful at all if we see him on our own. McGonagall at least takes students seriously if we've got something to say."
I'm still not entirely convinced; I'd much rather find out what is going on by ourselves and then go to the teachers when we've got it all figured out. If we tell them all we know now, we might never find out what happened. "Mmmhm. We did make a deal with Andy, though not to tell on him in return for his help."
"Oh honestly," Charlie says, much more harshly than before, "he's a tosser. You heard him; he sells those things to people with no clue of their effects. He doesn't just take their money, he risks their safety as well. For all we know, he might be directly responsible for everything that's been going on."
"Well, at least he said that he only sold this stuff to one person," I argue.
"If that's even true! Some Ravenclaw he is. You'd think he was in Slytherin, with that-"
"OI!" I interrupt. "Take that back, will you?"
"What?" Charlie stops in his tracks. "What's that about? You're not secretly in Slytherin, are you?"
"No, but that doesn't mean you're not being unfair." I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him. "My mum was in Slytherin, and she'd never stoop so low just for some Galleons. Not all of them are bad, just like all Hufflepuffs aren't dull, and all Gryffindors aren't stupidly reckless."
"Well...," Charlie begins, but I thump him on the arm and he breaks off, laughing.
"You can have dubious morals without being in Slytherin, just as not all the brave people are Gryffindors," I say. "There's nothing about being exclusive in the Sorting Hat's song. Or about any of the house values being good or bad, for that matter." There's a short pause while Charlie rubs his arm, and we continue walking. After giving it some thought, I add, "That doesn't mean that I love the Slytherins. A lot of them are selfish bullies. But a lot of the Ravenclaws are stuck up, and there are some seriously arrogant Gryffindors. Even some Hufflepuffs can be incredibly annoying."
"Tell me about it!" Charlie exclaims and evades my kick. "Glad to see you're feeling better, though."
"It still hurts like Helga's Hornets, but I'm willing to make sacrifices," I say, sticking out my tongue as I hobble on. "Anyway, don't have prejudices like that." I look at him earnestly. "It's not about houses, but whether or not you think someone is a good person."
"All right, all right," Charlie says, raising his hands in defeat. "I take it back. You know I didn't mean it like that, right?"
"Don't say it then, okay?" I'm more than ready to change the subject, so I continue, "What about only one person buying it? Do you really think he might have been lying?"
Charlie shrugs. "No idea. If it's the truth, then that person must have resold it, right? It must be this potion. Other than the people affected, everything seems to fit."
Before I can answer, we’ve reached the stairs that lead down towards the kitchens and the Den.
–Are you all right from here? Only I think I’d better not turn up down there right now,†Charlie says, and it’s only then that I realise we’re both still in our Quidditch robes.
I nod. –Sorry about all the trouble,†I say. –You must be exhausted from the game and all.â€
–It’s no problem. Shall we take this potion to the staff room tomorrow, then?†he asks.
–Mhm,†I mumble.
And then Charlie does something that he has never done in all the years I’ve known him. He hugs me goodbye.
I manage to slip past everyone unnoticed, and even though I only caught a fleeting glimpse, my mind is whirring with black and yellow as I make my way through the tunnel to our dormitory as fast as possible. I’m glad that at least our bedroom and bathroom are deserted, because I’m really not feeling up to facing anybody else before I’ve had my shower. Once I’ve closed the door behind me, I peel out of my Quidditch robes, very slowly and gingerly removing the fabric over my ribs. I can’t actually believe that the match was only this morning. The images from the day flash across my eyes quickly as I step into the shower, but I keep coming back to the same three. Morgan, Alexandra, Ed, lying in the hospital wing, terror etched on their faces. It’s not like I’m planning to do anything stupid, but I can’t just leave them lying there like that either.
The steaming hot water helps clear my skin from the layer of sweat and dirt, and also helps me clear my mind of the muddle of racing thoughts. When I step out of the shower, I have to wipe the mirror, which has fogged over, clean with a towel before I can take a look at the bruising. At the first look, I’m shocked. A bright shade of purple is shining out at me from where the Bludger hit me and beyond. The bruise is both larger and darker than I thought it would be. But then I take a step closer, and can’t help but think of the bragging rights this might give me; it really is quite an impressive injury, and once it stops hurting, there’s really nothing else to do with it other than show off. I resist the urge to touch it - I know it would hurt, there’s no need to check. Instead, I get the salve Madam Pomfrey gave me and apply it liberally. The instant I’m done covering my side and arm with it, it is absorbed into my skin, leaving only a thin film behind. To my deep satisfaction, the colour remains unchanged, but only moments later I can feel my breathing going more easily and tentatively flex my arms to find that the pain is almost gone.
I set the pot of salve on a shelf, and quickly put on some fresh clothes, leaving the Quidditch robes for a house-elf to pick up. It’s not until I’m halfway out through the tunnel that I remember the phial in the robe pocket. When I rush back to the bathroom and pull back the sheet covering our laundry basket, it’s with great relief that I find the heap of dirty clothing still lying there. I pocket the potion carefully and set off again. Through the dormitory windows, I can see that it is already turning dark outside, and I’m very grateful that I can lie in tomorrow. I don’t even quite know how I’m going to make it through the party - I’m exhausted.
At least for a moment, however, all the exhaustion and preoccupation is wiped away when I get back to the common room. The impression I got earlier wasn’t wrong - the room is shining in bright yellow on soft black, badgers whichering from banners, and food stacked high on the tables. It seems like every single Hufflepuff at the school is there, the occasional chant breaking through the animated chatter. Then, someone shouts –There she is!†and suddenly I’m surrounded by people offering me cakes and pumpkin juice. It’s not until I see and smell all the food that I realise how starved I am. We had the match today, I got injured, had to go to the hospital wing, and then run all those stairs - and all the while forgot to eat. I accept all the food that is offered to me as gratefully as I accept their congratulations and claps on my back, until my hands are so full I can’t carry anything else, and my stomach is growling a bit too fiercely. Martha is giving me a smile and a wave from one of the tables, so I make my way through the crowd and sit down opposite her.
–How’re you doing?†she asks as I start sorting through the food in front of me. –Jenna and I wanted to go see how you were doing, but they’re not letting anyone into the hospital wing at all.â€
–I’m fine really,†I say. –Madam Pomfrey fixed me up quick enough. I’ll need a good night’s sleep, and you should see the bruise -- but I’m fine.â€
Martha breaks off a piece of cake and starts nibbling on it. I don’t bother with breaking off and nibbling and just start stuffing my face.
–Did you have to wait around for long then?†Martha asks. –You were gone for ages.â€
–Nah, Charlie picked me up,†I reply between bites. –And we chatted a bit about the match and things.†I’m not entirely sure why I’m not telling her the truth. But what we did isn’t exactly in accordance with the school rules, and I don’t really want anything to get out, at least not just yet.
–So did you see Ed?†Martha is trying a bit hard to sound casual as she picks at crumbs on the table and does her best not to look me in the eyes.
Before I can even think about it, I’m shaking my head and saying, –No, Madam Pomfrey had me in a separate room. I tried, but I couldn’t even catch a glimpse.†Maybe I’m not ready to go back over the images again, maybe I feel like I’d be betraying the three people in those beds if I talked about them now, or maybe I just don’t want to worry Martha any more by giving her a detailed description of Ed’s anguish. Either way, the words are out, and Martha nods slowly, biting the inside of her mouth.
–He’ll be fine,†I promise. –We’ll pick him up from the hospital wing together in no time, and then you two can finally make up and be friends again.â€
I think I can see tears welling up in her eyes again, so I try to think of a different subject quickly. –So, did you have fun at the match?â€
She gives me a weak smile. –It was a bit weird with Ed not being there, especially after...you know,†she says, and I brace myself for another meltdown, but her voice stays steady. –You guys looked great up there though. It was really brave what you did, to keep the Bludger away from Sola.â€
–Stupid, more like,†I say, and laugh. –Anyway, I wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t known that Madam Pomfrey would be able to fix anything. And everything happened so quickly that I didn’t even really have time to think about it and get scared.â€
–Was it weird, flying directly against Charlie like that?†Martha asks, resting her head on her hand.
–Oh well, it’s not like we haven’t done it before. And anyway, Sola was the one flying directly against him. I was just saving our Seeker.†Both Charlie and I have been playing Quidditch on our house teams for ages, so I don’t really give it a lot of thought anymore. It’s actually been more relaxed this year, since Charlie gave up the post of Gryffindor Captain.
–I need a refill,†I say, pointing at my empty plate and goblet. –Do you want anything?â€
–Nah, I’m stuffed,†Martha replies. –And I might make it an early night, so that I can get some work done tomorrow.â€
Now that I’m paying more attention, I can see that a couple of tables have been pushed together in the centre of the room to hold all the leftovers, snacks, sandwiches and desserts that people have brought in, most from the kitchens, no doubt. When I’ve just started piling nibbly things on my plate when I see Anthony by the armchairs beckoning me over, a wide beam spread over his face. I turn around to see if Martha is coming along, but she’s already gone. She was definitely not joking about making it an early night...
When I reach my team mates, they slap me on the back so hard that I have to ask whether they intend to send me back to the hospital wing straightaway. I love them for it, of course. We keep discussing the match, and particularly what the outcome means for us (that we have a glimmer of a shot at the Cup), until the skies are pitch black and I can barely keep my eyes open anymore. Emptying my goblet for the last time that night, I wish everyone pleasant dreams and head off.
I’m still beaming when I get to our bedroom, almost flying on a cloud of cheer and praise. Obviously, we won the match as a team, and tonight, all seven of us are heroes. But I’m my team mates’ hero. Only Martha is in her bed yet, fast asleep; the other two are likely still at the party. I do my best to make as little noise as possible while I get ready for bed in the dim, warm light of the copper lamps, but it’s not until it hits the ground with a clang that I remember the phial in my pocket. My heart stops for a moment, then I quickly drop down on my knees to look for it. It’s not broken. Maybe the robes cushioned the initial fall, or maybe it’s made of really sturdy glass, or maybe I just got lucky. It doesn’t matter - the glass is intact, and the potion is still there. Throwing a quick glance at Martha’s bed, I can see that she’s still sleeping soundly.
I give a hearty yawn, then crawl into bed myself, still holding the phial tightly.
Then I undo the stopper and take a hearty gulp.